


Cosmonauts

by Morie_mordant



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, No Aliens, No Voltron, Piercings, Small Towns, Sorry Not Sorry, Tattoos, Teen Pregnancy, Trauma, hints on driving in an inappropriate state, not really - Freeform, some smut???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morie_mordant/pseuds/Morie_mordant
Summary: the noise of the garbage truck, the rustle of rats running through the piles of rubbish and the dog's yelp —  and your heartbeat on the background





	Cosmonauts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hailqiqi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailqiqi/gifts).
  * A translation of [Космонавты](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/327258) by Morie. 



> A prompt by hailqiqi, my hand slipped and 100% i'm testing your love for me with this uhm er work.

Pidge has been spreading peanut butter for whole three minutes already. She smoothed the surface with the wide side of the knife, then aimed to cut in in half, but unsatisfied, started over, erasing the line of the potential cut with the blade.

Her oversized sweatshirt hung loosely on her scrawny shoulders, her hair in a messy bun just above her nape, and most of the strands had already fallen out of it. Behind her ear there was a roll of brown paper, a smoldering cigarette butt; her parents weren’t at home, but she did not dare to smoke out in the open in the kitchen. She blew her nose and finally laid the triangles of toast on the plate and left the kitchen. Lance hesitated for a moment but followed her. He wasn’t planning on pressuring her to open up, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Pidge was acting funny.

She left the plate on the table and flopped down on the bed, shifting to the wall and pulling her feet up. Lance cautiously dropped down next to her and tried to stroke her bony knee to calm her down – but the same moment he had to jolt his hand away, as its angles scratched him.

“Hey, Pidgey-Pie, you’ve asked me to come. You wanted to tell me something.” He fished a matchbox out of her sweatshirt’s bottomless pocket and pulled the joint from behind her ear.

The match caught fire only the second time, and Pidge leaned over, capturing the end of it.

“Pidgeon…”  
“I’m pregnant”.

For the first time, the faint green color of the walls failed to calm his nerves. Lance liked it here. Her room always provided the impression that the owner was about to move out. The disarray of clothes on the floor, right next to tacky piles of books. A large sports bag, candy bars’ wrappers and empty energy drink cans on the table. A massive CD-player and a case, fat from a dozen CDs, in the UFO shape. Large green headphones with perpetually tangled wires. Pidge was ready to get on a move at any second, to go to the other end of the town – or the other end of the world.

Her hands were shivering slightly, so she let him hold the joint, while she smoked, fidgeting with her high sock and the shoelaces on her combat boot, decorated with markers’ drawings.

“Not sure if it’s recommended for pregnant.” It was said more to tease her than out of an actual worry, because Pidge always did what she wanted, and by trying to forbid her anything, you were only making it harder for yourself.  
“What’s the difference?” she grimaced. “I’ll get rid of it soon anyway”.

“It”. Lance winced and withdrew his hand to take a puff himself. He turned his gaze from her knees to his own, poking out of the holes in his jeans. He traced the pink threads of old scars on the tawny skin. Here he had been learning how to ride a bicycle; there he had knocked against his own foot after a major growth spurt. Another one after he had gotten so high he completely lost the sense of orientation and grandiosely collapsed from the roof of a half-ruined abandoned church, where they were smoking dope and kissed for the first time. His fall was exactly what led to the kiss, actually. He thought he had broken his leg and refused to get up, so Pidge had to come down to him, and she did so with the agility of a monkey, which made him even grumpier. To stop him lamenting, she did not come up with anything better than kissing him, and so they lay in the damp grass, and their denim jackets got soaked wet and the grass stains proved to be permanent. Afterwards, it turned out to be a mere strain.

“Have you decided on abortion already?” he asked, suddenly not knowing how to set down his long lean arms and legs.

Pidge rested her palms on her tummy as if she could already feel the swelling. The lion was baring her green teeth out of the gaunt wrist – the lion was eyeing Lance. Pidge avoided his eyes.

“As if there’s some other choice,” she exhaled, exasperated, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “What child? For what? Parents will kill me. Matt will kill you. And then they’ll revive us just to drag into marrying bullshit. I want to go to college. I’m not going to stay in this damp, have a shotgun wedding, become one of these hags”.

“I’ll go with you,” his hand found hers, squeezed it, just to stop her shaking, forcing her to turn to him, to look at him, to see him. “If you want. Let’s go together, and I’ll hold your hand, pretty romantic, don’t you say? Me, you, us, white tile floor and our mutual cells, dead and smeared on your pantyliner. We can watch “Mars Attacks”, and I’ll borrow some stacy from guys”.  
“Fuck, parents ‘ll find out. Matt ‘ll find out. Everyone ‘ll know. Today I’ve been to 7-eleven, for some gum, and that bitch cashier looked at me as if she knew. She must’ve seen that I took the pregnancy test. That means practically everyone knows by now. I paid for it in self-service. In cash. How do they know everything?”

When Lance tugged her towards him, she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent, breathing convulsively. The cold metal of her septum hurt as it was digging into his skin, but he did not dare to change their position so as not to spook her.

“Why don’t we go to another place? Some random city,” he whispered, “where no one knows us. I’ll take you. Everything ‘ll be fine, Kitty-Kat.”

Neither touched the peanut-butter toasts.

*

The road back went quietly. Stuck in the Sound played on a low volume, Pidge curled on her seat and turned to the window, Lance chewed his lower lip and gently tapped the wheel in tune with the song.

Being seduced by the friendly flickering neon sign, they stopped at a shoebox of a diner. There they found a whole cemetery of butterflies, fireflies, regular flies, all fried by the said welcome sign, and Lance could hardly restrain himself from scooping through this black dead sea. The inwards of his nose were itchy, he had sweat stains under his armpits, and he had to keep looking at the floor not to stumble.

They almost had a race to a tiny dirty crapper. Once inside, Lance picked her up and pressed her to the round dim mirror, pushing her skinny ass on the spat-over sink. Pidge hissed and bit him in retaliation for self-indulgence, invading his mouth the moment he opened it in a pained groan, grabbing the stud in his tongue with her teeth. Running his hands under her baggy sweater, he groped the buckle of her worn, washed out bra. She flinched, jabbing him with her erect nipple, wrapped her legs around his waist, and the soils of her heavy boots hit his tailbone hard. In a fit of boldness, Lance twisted the hem of her skirt, pulled the elastic band of her pantyhose and released it, letting it slap her side with a loud pop. With the other hand, he covered her throat, tightening his grip around it, and she panted, letting a gasp vibrate in her kiss, as she spun and tore his choker off, giving a long red-hot lick over his Adam’s apple.

Her fingers, calloused from computer keys, grazed his thigh, with her thumb pressed on the fly, and her palm downed on the belt buckle, warmed, being trapped between their bodies. Suddenly the hand stopped. Lance rolled impatiently, snarling into her hair. But Pidge did not stir.

“No.”  
“No what?” twisted and hot, he withdrew, breathing heavily.

She simply shook her head, hugging herself, covering her breasts.

Lance could not understand what he had done wrong, but without further words, he picked up discarded clothes, and gingerly lifted her arms to put her bra back on. After covering her with her vast sweater, he helped her to the ground, adjusting her hitched up skirt and pantyhose.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He sat down on the closed toilet and took her into a hug, rocking her slightly. “Everything’s okay now. I understand. We went ahead of ourselves after all this shit. Now-now.”

He took a small plastic bag out and somehow with one hand he managed to roll a joint. Firstly, two puffs for her, to calm her down a little, then one puff for him, because he really needed some after the last night. He could not drink alcohol to treat his hangover, as he was driving today.

“Better, right? It’s all good, Pidgins. If you wanna, we can wait until you leave for college. I’m some hot cakes, all right, but for the sake of the most attractive big head of science of the Holt family, I’ll wait even until the end of college, if necessary. I mean Matt deserves that, don’t you agree?”

Usually, she would shove his ribs with her elbow, laughing open and loud, but now she did not even smile. Hastily Lance made another puff.

“No need to wait,” she said finally.

“Shit happens,” Lance remarked surprisingly calm, surprisingly even for himself. “It’s not like we’re total doofus. We did protections. Always. Well, maybe we forgot it that one unlucky time, but now we’ll definitely be on high alert. And as I said, if you care so much, we can wait. Because I don’t care. My cock might turn blue and break, but you know, it’s not my only asset.” He winked clicking his tongue. “Don’t be silly. When you want it, you have it.”

“I had something foreign in my body.” Her voice sounded hoarse as if her throat was rubbed with sandpaper. “I can’t. I won’t. Not now, not later. Just to imagine…”

They both longed of escaping from this sleepy town, from this languid melancholy of meaningless existence – but as it turns out, in different ways. With different goals.

Lance gave her a shake, seeking some confirmation in her glance, something, something – anything.

“I want to be with you,” at the back of his mind he realized he was choking her in his embrace, “please, Katie, I love you so much, I beg you”.

 

Pidge was sucking on her milkshake, picking a hole in the seat cover of faux leather with her chewed chipped nail. Lance was trying to stuff himself with a dry onion pie, stretching all out on the sofa.

The elderly waitress poured some more coffee for him, staring at the line in his eyebrow with dull disapproval. As she moved back to the counter, a blue-furred lion roared at her from his shoulder blade, with her tail wrapped around his forearm.

I don’t want to be alone in this lousy town, no way, I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want to, I don’t want to, I don’t want to…

Pidge remained silent.


End file.
